Jack stared at her. "How do you know these things? Illyth, Zandria, the riddle? Have you been spying on me?"
"I have my sources," Elana said. "I warned you, Jack, the first night we met. When you accept my money, I consider you to be in my employ. That places certain responsibilities upon my shoulders and certain obligations on yours. I am utterly loyal with those who follow me and deal with them with no mental reservations. I require the same in return."
Jack took two steps back and sat in the window seat spanning the aft bulkhead of the room. "Who are you?" he said quietly.
Elana watched him, a cat playing with a wounded bird. "Are you certain you want to know, Jack? If I tell you, you no longer have the option of walking away. All I can tell you is that you will be well rewarded, you will be engaged in dangerous and frequently undesirable work, and that you will be one of a very small number of people who will tear down Raven's Bluff and rebuild it as something entirely different. People will get hurt, people will die, and you may not live to see if I am ultimately successful or not. This is your last chance to say no."
Jack looked down at his hands and rubbed them together. He could see what Elana was doing, of course. She was setting the hook. How could he possibly say no to all that? He'd grown up a guttersnipe, an orphan, entitled to nothing more than he could pilfer with his own hands. Elana offered him a chance to be a power, a lord over men, a shaper of events and dreamer of great dreams.
And, of course, she offered him the chance to know, the opportunity to find out what she was hiding under all the secrecy, and maybe-just maybe-a chance to win her favors after all. If he left now, he wouldn't see her again. He was certain of it, but if he stayed, if he showed her what he could really do, who knew?
He looked up and said, "I understand. I will not abandon my existing enterprises altogether-after all, I have given my word to others, and I am inclined to keep it in a couple of instances, but I accept your conditions. Now, Elana, who are you?"
The swordswoman bared her teeth in a smile that would have intimidated a tiger. "I am more widely known as Myrkyssa Jelan," she said, "but for you, dear Jack, Elana will do. Sit down again, and I will explain to you how things must be."
"Myrkyssa Jelan," Jack repeated dully. "The Warlord, Terror of the Vast, shaker of mountains and destroyer of cities." He took two steps back. "On second thought, I believe I prefer to think of you as Elana. If you don't mind, I shall bid you a good night."
Jelan narrowed her eyes. "It's not as easy as that now, Jack." One hand slid down to rest on the hilt of the slender sword at her side.
The rogue tilted his head thoughtfully. "I beg to differ, dear lady," he said. He worked a spell of shadow-jumping that whisked him from Jelan's cabin in the blink of an eye, teleporting him to the lonely wharves a few hundred feet distant. It was perhaps the most difficult spell he knew how to work, but useful beyond compare when he needed to absent himself from tricky situations. He staggered then straightened again; the shadow-jump was strenuous.
Jack looked around, blinking to adjust his vision and regain his bearings. There was Jelan's ship, rocking softly by the pierside. No hue or cry sounded from its decks, but Jack hadn't expected any. Instead, he turned and hurried quickly back into the shadows of the alleyways and rambling streets.
At first Jack thought to bolt for his apartments and drop out of sight for a couple of days, in case Elana-Myrkyssa Jelan, he corrected himself-objected violently to his flight. But between the outcome of the mission he'd undertaken for her and the ugly turn in the Game of Masks, he discovered the need of a few stout ales. He briefly considered whether or not it was wise to choose the Tankard for his relaxation this evening, but he could detect a very tangible and nigh-irresistible pull gently tugging his feet into the familiar direction. He had a heavy purse full of coin, and the Cracked Tankard was just the place to make it a little lighter.
"Besides," he told himself, "Elana must realize that I am well aware of the fact that she has found me twice in the Cracked Tankard and cannot possibly regard it as a safe place to avoid her attention. Reasoning thus, she will not even trouble herself with looking for me here, so this is the perfect choice for my evening's entertainment. I'll exercise due caution, and no trouble will come of it."
He reached the corner of Red Wyrm and DeVillars, pausing to check for any followers. A coach trundled past in the warm night, wheels gleaming in the lamplight. Jack straightened his doublet and adjusted the fit of his cap. Then he strode boldly inside, instantly comforted in a small but familiar way by the press of bodies, the haze of smoke, the laughter and music and babble of a score of conversations all shouted over each other. With a small sigh of relief, Jack found his favored table and drew up a seat. Briesa worked the common room of the Tankard this evening; Jack offered her a wink and a leer that brought her over ahead of three other tables demanding service.
"Why, Jack! I've hardly seen you of late," the pretty barmaid laughed. "I was beginning to fear that you'd forgotten me!"
"How could I forget you, when my every waking moment is filled with longing, and my nights are immortalized by the passion we share in my dreams?" Jack replied. He pulled her onto his lap and held her there for a moment. "Would you be a fine lass and bring me a flagon of that Sembian wine you keep above the bar?"
Briesa disentangled herself from his grasp. "And how would you be paying for that?"
Jack dropped a small handful of gold crowns on the table. "I am lately come into a small inheritance. From this moment forward, I shall settle all my tabs and make good on all my previous promises. Perchance have you seen Anders tonight?"
"He's making use of one of the upstairs rooms," Briesa replied. "Shall I tell him you're here?"
"I'll wait. It won't be long."
Jack sent her on her way with a good-natured slap on her fanny. Briesa gathered up the coins in her apron and danced away toward the bar, slipping through the press with the expertise of experience.
He had time to pour and drink two goblets of the Sembian red before Anders Aricssen came thumping down the narrow staircase, his fair features flushed with drink and his swordbelt slung over one shoulder. The Northman spied him at once and pushed through the crowd straight toward him.
"Jack! I've been looking all over for you. Where in the world have you been tonight?"
"Concluding business with a beautiful, yet disappointing, lady," Jack said glumly. Briesa returned with the wine and two goblets. Jack poured a cup for himself and one for Anders as she moved off to look after dozens of shouting patrons. "It's a strange night, friend Anders, filled with veiled peril and dark deeds."
The Northman slumped into the seat across from him and drained his goblet at one mighty go, red rivulets streaming through his beard. "That does not tell me much," he observed. "Say, that wasn't half bad. Your business must have concluded reasonably well, Jack; I can gauge the success of your ventures by the quality of your drink.''